The Morning After
by MyAshestoAshes
Summary: Any FemWarden/Alistair romance implied, written from the FemWarden's perspective. "You pause outside the gates to slip on a brave face. You smile at the guard, who fidgets nervously, and tell him that there is nothing to fear. You don't believe it, but you don't matter anymore. You are a Grey Warden. In war victory." Rated K . One-shot


_The Morning After_

The morning is cold, though you can't feel it as you sit under the lonely tree overlooking the lake. The light creeping up over the horizon surprises you. It seems like minutes ago you sat here, for what you can't remember. You haven't slept. This time it wasn't the nightmares that kept you from the fade, but the empty room. He's missing. Yet you know where he is.; probably sleeping in the soft bed of the Arl's estate. He room he was supposed to be using all along. You were always amazed at his ability to sleep anywhere. You can't help but smile a little a memories that come to you mind with unwelcome ease. Even though they are happy memories they bring back fresh wounds. He isn't yours anymore. Maybe he never really was. You knew it was a possibility as soon as the Arl mentioned putting him forward. Love has no place in politics, if that's what it even was. It was for you, that much you know.

The chirping birds remind you of what comes next. The march back to the place where everything fell into place and then fell apart. Time to save a city that rejects you as more than their savior. Your body is stiff from sitting against the tree all night. It creaks and groans with a weariness you feel to your soul. You're tired. You wonder if it would be possible just to slip away, run from everything that's happened and that is going to happen. You know you can't. The people are looking to you to help them live through this. As quickly as you can bring yourself to move, you return to Redcliff castle. You pause outside the gates to slip on a brave face. You smile at the guard, who fidgets nervously, and tell him that there is nothing to fear. You don't believe it, but you don't matter anymore.

You are a Grey Warden.

In war victory.

* * *

There is little talking as the army marches toward the horde. Everyone is saying silent prayers to the Maker, Creators, and the Ancestors, anyone who might listen. You've done well to gather so many to help fight the Darkspawn but you wonder if it will be enough. The pull of the taint in your blood grows with every step you take. You know you aren't the only one wondering about the numbers. Though you try not to look at his face you can see the way his brow is creased. He's as nervous as you are. Trying, as you are, to put on a show for the terrified men, women, elves, and dwarves following him. The King.

There is no stopping all the way from Redcliff. Time is too short to stop but the glow that puts the sun to shame brings everyone up short. Denerim is on fire. You are too late. Panicked voices carry from behind you. You feel your own heart in your mouth. How can you assure them that there is still hope now? Your brain is rushing though all the things you could say, all the things you should say, when suddenly he is moving. His strides are confident as he finds the high ground on which to look down at his people. You follow behind him, unsure why. You never told your legs to move.

His voice is strong as he speaks of you to the people. It's the voice of the king. The army rallies behind him. Letting out a wave of roars and you hear your own voice added to the mix. Your heart swells with pride in him. You know you made the right choice, no matter how it will hurt when the day is over. If you're lucky, maybe you won't see the end of the day.

* * *

You breathe a small sigh of relief as you hear the end of the last darkspawn. If only it was the last of them all. The pain of the taints gives way to the pain of wounds. Thankfully there is nothing serious. Nothing that Wynne couldn't handle but you won't tell her. You'll need her for that later you're sure. You count your companions as you all gather around the senior Grey Warden. Everyone is accounted for and more or less unharmed. You feel some of the weight lift off your shoulders. They've become your family. As you look at them, your gaze lingers on all their faces. Remembering every last little feature you can. You avoid his face though. You could paint it with your eyes closed. Every last details is permanently fixed in your mind.

Riordan's voice brings you back to the task at hand. Slay the Archdemon. Slay the Archdemon and end the blight. If the Archdemon was just another dragon you wouldn't feel the unease that you do. You've killed a dragon before. It was a long, hard fight but in the end you won. This was different. Only a Grey Warden could kill the Archdemon. There are only three of you left in all of Ferelden. What happens if you fail? Will other Wardens come and finish what you started? Will it be too late?

You listen intently as Riordan lays out his plan. Draw the Archdemon to the top of Fork Draken and then kill it. You look at him like he's mad as he tells you he's going to be the one to draw the dragon's ire but secretly feel relieved that he is the one to end the beast. Darkspawn is one thing you know you can handle. You'll need a small group in order to move quickly, the rest will be left behind to watch the gate. You need time and as much as they can give you. Your temporary confidence shatters when you hear him suggest you take the King with you. You can't fight darkspawn and protect the King at the same time. No, he has to stay behind.

You carefully pick those to come with you. As you announce your choice he protests loudly. You don't let him finish. He is King now. The men need him. The people need him. The fight leaves him and he doesn't argue with you. As you turn to go he grabs your hand. His grip is crushing and everyone is watching. You know what he wants to say, you want to say it too. You want to take him up on that offer to run away and live in sin and eat smelly cheese. You take a deep breath and pull your hand away. You close your eyes and try to will away the blight. Your mind races with the possible outcomes. Chances are you will die; chances are you will never see him again.

You turn back to him and quickly close the distance between you. You press your lips into his for the last time. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as your armor will allow. Your hands reach around to tangle in his hair. This is goodbye.

And in death… sacrifice.

* * *

_Evening everyone!_

_Thank you for taking the time to read my one-shot. I've never written from this perspective before so I am anxious to hear what you think. If you liked it, if you didn't like it, if there was something that didn't make sense, anything. _

_I tried this perspective so any of the female Wardens should fit here, I hope. I really like the way that feels when I've read some other stories that have used this style. _

_I'm not entirely sure where it all came from. I was listening to Kid Rock's "Picture" when it came to me. _

_Thanks again for reading!_

_Happy New Year!_

_Ashes_


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